


The Food of Love

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Food, Italian Food, Kabby, Oral Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:26:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set some time after 3x03 but it's really just about the smut. Marcus invites Abby to dinner to find out where their relationship is going. Things go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Food of Love

Marcus was glad to be back in his compartment after a long day out in the Rover scouting the territory. They had started a mapping project to get an accurate layout of the land around them and it involved a lot of driving over bumpy terrain and standing around with makeshift theodolites. It was not his favourite thing to be doing and left him stiff and achy from lack of movement. As second in command, though, he felt it was his duty to take a share in all of the tasks at Arkadia, from surveying, farming and building to general maintenance.

It was through working on the small farm that he had recently found a new way to relax, and that was cooking. Ever since they had started growing fruit and vegetables in the grounds of Arkadia Marcus had been teaching himself to cook when he had the chance. Sinclair had built him a mini oven with two-ring hob and Marcus found that experimenting with food was a great way to de-stress. There had been some old recipe books in items brought back from Mount Weather and Marcus was working his way through them as best he could with the limited supplies they had available.

On the Ark food was mostly nutritional, without flavour or colour. More often than not it was in pill form, or packed into a hard biscuit, tough, gritty and hard to swallow. It wasn’t until they’d brought in their first harvest that Marcus had learned the sensuousness of food, how the blush on a tomato hints at the pleasure beneath, how the juice flows into your mouth when your teeth pierce the skin, bringing your tastebuds alive. His first bite of an apple had taken his breath away. The firm roundness of the fruit and its delicate pink skin led him to believe it would be sweet but it was sharp and his mouth felt like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny knives, forcing saliva to pour out and mix with the juice of the apple. Standing in his makeshift kitchen, thinking about it now he had the same reaction. It was an incredible sensation being tortured by the sourness of the flesh and yet finding it pleasurable, so much so that he had eaten them every day while they were in season, and craved them when they were gone.

Tonight he was making the most of the fresh crop of cherry-red tomatoes and was making pasta with a marinara sauce from a book of Italian recipes. They didn’t have durum wheat to make real pasta so Marcus had painstakingly shaved long strands of flesh off zucchini to make something that resembled spaghetti. This had been very popular amongst health-conscious cooks a hundred years ago, according to the recipe book.

He was going to extra lengths to make a nice meal tonight because Abby was coming to dinner. There was nothing new in them sharing meals together, particularly since being on the ground, as they sometimes ate as they worked, usually something from the mess hall eaten in halting spoonfuls in between conversations. This was the first time he had invited her specifically to eat a meal that he had cooked, though, which made it significantly different. It was also making him tense, which was the opposite of how he usually felt when cooking. He wanted to get it right, to impress Abby he supposed. They had been getting closer over the last couple of months and Marcus did not think he was imagining that there was something more happening between them than the good friends they had become. The signs were encouraging. They’d been touching each other a lot, lingering longer than necessary; his fingers brushing hers; hers curling lightly around his just for a second. When he made a joke or a flippant comment she looked up at him with a shy half-smile that pierced his soul. Sometimes he caught her looking at him and whereas in the past she would look away again, now she held his gaze, as though she was issuing a challenge.

Recently she’d taken to falling asleep on the sofa in his compartment, tired to the bone from spending half her time running the camp as Chancellor and the other half looking after her patients as Chief Medical Officer. He took it as a sign that she was comfortable with him, happy for him to see her when she’s at her least guarded and most vulnerable. They’d spent a couple of nights like that; she on the sofa, him in his cot at the back of the compartment. Together, but not that together. On seeing her first thing in the morning, with her hair mussed up and her sleep-heavy eyes, his heart leapt and his pulse raced. He was in love with her; there was no doubt. He thought she felt the same, but wasn’t sure. That was what tonight was about- to see if he could find out. A heavy weight of expectation hung on this simple marinara sauce, and Marcus had to get it right.

There was a sharp rap at the door and then it opened and Abby came in. She was dressed in tight grey jeans and that blue top with the three buttons she always wore open. Usually she had a vest top underneath it but tonight he could see that she did not. Was that significant, thought Marcus? What was more significant surely was that she had replaced her necklace. Instead of wearing Jake’s ring she had threaded a delicate acorn bead that he knew Raven had made for her last month. It nestled nicely in the V of her breasts. Her hair was freshly washed and tied up in a ponytail, with wispy strands already coming loose to frame her face. Marcus felt himself stir at the sight of her.

Abby smiled at him, not the shy smile or the exasperated smile but the cheeky eyebrow-raised smile she’d given him at the market in Polis.

“I brought the wine,” she said setting a bottle on the counter.

Marcus appraised the bottle as though he didn’t already know what kind it was; it gave him something to do for a moment, to collect himself.  Earlier in the year they had made a rough wine from the berries of the rowan trees mixed with juice from the tart apples so it was not too sweet. Marcus had grown fond of this wine but there weren’t many bottles left and they were hard to come by.

“Very nice,” he said, looking at her. “An excellent vintage. It must have taken some effort to find this.”

“I have a certain influence,” she said with a smirk. “Something smells good.”

Marcus checked the pot and turned the temperature down. “It’s a marinara sauce: tomatoes, wild garlic, onions, oregano and maybe a dash of wine.”

Abby made a move towards the sauce as he searched in a drawer for his utility knife. “Can I taste it?” She said picking up the spoon. Marcus batted her hand away. “Not yet, it’s not ready.” He found the rough-made corkscrew on his utility knife and twisted it into the cork. He pulled and the cork came out with a satisfying plop. He was relieved, because nothing made a man look weaker than a cork that won’t come out of the bottle. He poured a couple of inches of wine into the sauce. He didn’t want to use too much and waste good alcohol.

He put a couple of mugs out on the counter. “Do you want one now?” he asked, indicating the bottle.

“That’s why I brought it. I could really do with a drink after today.”

Marcus poured them both a large helping of the wine. He held his wine up to Abby’s and they clinked mugs. “Good health.”

“And to you,” she replied before taking a big sip of the wine. She grimaced a little as she always did. Abby preferred everything a little sweeter than Marcus. She couldn’t understand his addiction to the tart apples.

“Do you want me to sweeten it with some orange juice?”

“No thanks, I’m trying to get used to it.”

Marcus took a big swill of the wine. It was sharp, but to him it was the taste of Fall, when the leaves were turning golden against the blue skies and the sun wasn’t quite warm enough to convert all the sugars in the berries. It was his favourite time of year. “What was so bad today that it has driven you to drink?” Marcus hadn’t seen Abby all day as he had come in from the surveying trip and gone straight to his compartment to shower and get ready for tonight.

Abby sighed. “Oh, just a break out of Mono among some of the kids kept me busy in Medical and then Sinclair was pestering me for approval of his expansion plans and I didn’t have time to look them over properly, they’re so complex. It’s Wednesday so it was also my Open Door day and I had a line of people complaining that went right round the corridor.”

Marcus put his hand on Abby’s shoulder and rubbed it gently. “You’re doing too much. You need to delegate.”

Abby placed her hand over his and held it there. “Delegation has never been my strong point.”

“I know, you always want to do everything yourself but you have to learn to trust others at some point, Abby, or you’ll burn out.”

Abby let go of his hand and Marcus wrapped it round his mug, holding it tight with both hands.

Abby looked at him, her eyes seeming to bore down into the core of him. “I trust you,” she said, and then, after a short pause:  “most of the time.”

Marcus felt a shiver at her words; it ran down his spine and out along his limbs. Abby had never said anything like that before, not so explicitly. They had come a long way since the Ark when she accused him of tracking her and he couldn’t deny it because he was. How time and experience can change a person, Marcus thought, plus a whole load of near-death encounters!

“Maybe I should stay at Arkadia more, help you out with the Chancellor duties?”

Abby reached out and took his mug of wine from him, setting it on the counter top next to her own. “Maybe we should just forget about being Chancellor and Doctor and everything else for one night and just live a normal life, even for just a moment.” She moved towards him and for a heart-stopping moment Marcus thought she was going to embrace him but she pushed him playfully aside and went to the stove. “I want to taste your marinara sauce, Marcus. Is it ready yet?”

Marcus stirred the sauce with the spoon. Abby was standing just inches from him now, so close he could smell the rosehip oils she’d used in the shower.  He held out the spoon for her to taste the sauce and she pursed her lips to blow on the spoon to cool it. She didn’t take it from him; instead she held his hand to guide the spoon into her mouth, all the while looking at him. Then she closed her eyes as she swallowed the sauce, savouring the flavour. Marcus withdrew the spoon carefully and continued to watch her. The constriction in his pants was getting tighter now. He shifted slightly away from her. If he was completely misreading these signs then he didn’t want her to see or feel how she was affecting him.

She opened her eyes and gave a sigh of satisfaction. “Mmm. It’s lovely, but I think it could use a little spice.” She was smiling, a cheeky smile that lit up her eyes.

Marcus smiled back, risked moving closer again “don’t you think it’s spicy enough?” His eyes roamed her face, trying to read her thoughts, her intentions. He was useless at this, always had been.

“No I don’t,” Abby said and leaned in and kissed him on the lips. He was so surprised at this that he opened his mouth to say “oh” and she slipped her tongue in, finding his, deepening the kiss. The spoon clattered to the floor between them. Marcus ignored it. He pulled her into him, his hands around the back of her head, his fingers playing with her ponytail. He pulled on the barrette so that it slipped down the length of her hair, freeing it. He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling its softness. How he had longed to do this, to know what Abby felt like, to know how she tasted, how she smelled.

Her hands were on the back of his neck, caressing him, making the little hairs stand up beneath her touch. It was a sensory overload for Marcus. He pulled back, breaking their kiss. They were both a little breathless. Abby’s cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated. “What’s the matter?” she said.

“Nothing, I just… Are you sure you want to do this. Is this okay?”

“Marcus, I’ve been sure for a while, I think we both have. We just needed something to hang this on, something normal. When you asked me to dinner, well I kind of decided then that there wouldn’t be a better time, if you seemed willing…”

“And I did?” Marcus thought he had hidden his feelings quite well so this was a surprise to him.

“From the moment I walked in the door. Now let’s see where this goes shall we. Oh, just one thing though.”

She reached behind him and Marcus was perplexed as to what she wanted. Then he realised she was turning the sauce off. “Don’t want to ruin it,” she said, “we’ll be hungry later.”

The second kiss was fierce and passionate, their tongues battling, teeth clashing, lips wet. It was months of supressed desire and longing unleashed with a force that left them breathless. Part of Marcus wanted to rip Abby’s clothes off, to have her there and then on the kitchen counter, his need was so great. But he kept thinking: what if this is the only time, what if this is the only moment of normal life we get? He decided to take it as slow as his desire would allow.

He slowed the kiss down, stopped trying to eat her and instead planted little kisses on her face and her lips, sucking on her bottom lip so that she moaned. Her hands were tugging at the hem of his grey t-shirt, trying to pull it up. He lifted his arms up so she could pull it over his head. She ran her fingers over his bare chest, fingertips fluttering over the smooth flesh. She thumbed his nipples, teasing them erect. Marcus’s hard on felt massive, straining to be released from his pants. He contained himself for now, though, preferring to return the favour and peel Abby’s top over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts bounced free, dark nipples already hard. He placed a hand on the swell of her breast and held it there, feeling her warm skin, the rise and fall of her breathing which was fast and shallow. He let his thumb brush her nipple, enjoying seeing her close her eyes in pleasure. He bent his head to suck it, tonguing the sensitive flesh at the tip. Abby moaned loudly.

“Marcus. I can’t…” She pulled him away, kissing him. “It’s too sensitive right now.”

She popped the stud on his jeans and unzipped him, pushing his pants and his boxers down at the same time so that he sprang free at last. It was such a relief not to be contained. He stepped awkwardly out of the tangle of pants and stood facing her. She looked him up and down, appraising him. He didn’t mind that, wasn’t shy. He knew he had a good body, knew he measured up well. She reached out to touch his erection and he let her hand slide up and down it a couple of times until he knew that had to stop before it was all over too quickly. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, pulling her to him so that they were pressed against each other, only his fingers in the way. He unzipped her in return and tried to pull the jeans down but they were so tight he couldn’t do it. How did she even get into these, he thought? Abby laughed. “Maybe if I lie down?” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. Pulling the cushions off, she put them on the floor and lay back on top of them. Marcus knelt before her and she lifted her hips as he eased the jeans down her thighs and over her ankles. Her black, lacy underpants followed and then she was naked before him. Her skin was fair and the scars and bruises from their adventures here on Earth were livid against her pale flesh. He traced the marks with his fingertips.

“Not so pretty, huh?” she said, caressing the top of his head.

It was painful to see these scars, to see how damaged she had been. He didn’t dare turn her over and see the scars he himself had caused. “You’re beautiful,” said Marcus, and he meant it. Each scar, each bruise was a reminder that they had survived. They wouldn’t be here in this moment if these things had not happened, that was something to hold on to.

Marcus kissed the scars, kissed all over her upper body. His fingers found the wetness between her legs, he dipped his middle finger inside her, bringing her juices out and spreading them over her clitoris, running little circles around and around the hard nub. She moaned and squirmed beneath his touch. He replaced his finger with his tongue, lapping up her wetness, pressing his face, his nose, his beard, his tongue into her, trying to overload all his senses with Abby. Her hands were on his head guiding him. She gave him one-word instructions and encouragement: harder; softer; there; yes; and when he got into a rhythm she liked she said “don’t stop” and he didn’t, working hard not to let the tempo slip. She was getting close he could tell. She was starting to pulse beneath his tongue. Her breathing was shallow, her hands were tugging hard on his hair. “Please, Marcus.”

When he took her clitoris into his mouth and sucked on the hard nub, she burst on his tongue, flooding his mouth with flavour. He let it flow over his tongue and teeth, into every corner of his mouth so that she was all he could taste. She was sea-salted, sun-ripened and bittersweet.

He lifted his head to look at her. Her head was flung back on the cushions, her eyes closed, her hand on her breast, as though trying to slow her heart, measure her breathing. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. She opened her eyes, sat up on her elbows and looked at him, grinning. She let out a long breath. “That was…” she shook her head. “Come here.” He crawled up over her, careful not to rest his weight on her. She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth, kissed the beard covering his cheeks and chin. “You’re covered in me,” she whispered into his ear, almost shyly. That was possibly the single most erotic thing anyone had ever said to Marcus and he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

He kissed her face, kissed her breasts, sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Is this okay now?”

“Yes,” she replied.

His erection was throbbing so hard now, it was painful. He didn’t know how he had managed to restrain himself for so long. “I want you, Abby.”

“I want you too, Marcus.” She put her hand between them, took hold of him and guided him inside her. She was warm, and wet, and felt like home. He moved cautiously at first, just enjoying the sensation of moving inside of Abby, of being wrapped in her, held tightly. She didn’t want it cautious though and she sat up to embrace him so they were sitting face to face, with him still inside her but it was hard to move in this position. He gave into the inevitable and let her flip him so that he was on his back and she was above him. She sat straight and proud, rocking slowly back and forth, working really hard to almost slip him right out of her and back down again so that he got the full sensual experience. He felt so deep inside her when she lowered herself like that, like he was possessing her completely. He would never say that to her though because she wouldn’t like it and anyway, it was quite clear that she was the one in control, the one who had possessed him. He could care less. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated. He tested her clitoris again with his thumb, rubbing it gently, seeing if she was still sensitive or ready for more pleasure. She didn’t complain, just moaned and threw her head back as she rode him. He stroked her in time with the rhythm she had set up and tried to delay his own climax until she had reached hers. She was quicker than him, though, and came again moments before his own sweet release.

After a long moment she climbed off him and lay down next to him. They lay side by side, faces inches apart, looking at each other. Her face was flushed, her cheeks pink and her chocolate brown eyes were so dark and liquid he felt he would drown if he looked too deeply. He looked anyway; there were worse ways to go than drowning in Abby.

“I really loved that,” she said. “It felt right, felt natural.”

Marcus was relieved to hear that. He had long worried that if they ever got together it could make or break their relationship. Sometimes when you crossed the line, there was no going back, and that was not always a good thing.

He caressed her face, brushed a long strand of damp hair to the side.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, unconsciously echoing Abby’s usual mantra.

“Good. Then let’s eat,” she said. “I’m starving.”

The END

 


End file.
